Crystal Tears
by weewam
Summary: Mark Harrison is on a quest - to avenge his father, who was killed by members of Team Rocket. Now, Mark must team up with a rebellious Onix to track down the killer and get vengeance once and for all.
1. Shattered Hearts

Crystal Tears

- - - -

Chapter 1 – Shattered Hearts

The shrill shattering of yet another polished crystal glass woke Mark from his slumber.

With groggy eyes, the fourteen year old boy gazed around his bedroom. His glazed vision passed idly over the clock on his nightstand, which read precisely 7:18, before settling on his open door. Sunlight streamed through the window, creating a golden glow through which dust could be seen floating haphazardly, spinning wildly with the overhead fan's breeze.

Mark lifted his head and strained to make out the muffled yells that were coming from the kitchen, just down the hall. He couldn't understand what his parents were saying, but he got the gist of it. He shook his head, thinking, _Mom and Dad…._

Mark knew that couples often fought over things, but he thought his parents had had more than their fair share of arguments. The pair fought over just about everything, from the family dog, to who go to sit where at dinner. Mark had long since stopped worrying about their spats; he knew they weren't anything serious.

Mark sighed, laid his head back down on his pillow, and fell back asleep.

- - - -

Some time later, rough hands shook Mark back into consciousness. Startled, his eyes snapped open, and he looked up, searching wildly for the source.

It was his mother. Mark gazed into her tear-filled eyes, wondering what was wrong. "Mark…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Your father. He-he's been hurt."

Mark stared in disbelief. The pain in his mother's crystal blue eyes was unmistakable. The tears that fell were ones of sorrow, of loss. "What happened?" whispered Mark.

In a grave voice, she told him. The argument that Mark had overheard wasn't one between his parents. While he had slept, a man had snuck into their house and shot his father. Mark's mother had tried in vain to stop the man, but he was far too strong. He had robbed the family of everything and anything they held dear, most noticeably, Mark's father.

Mark and his mother walked into the kitchen, clutching each other tightly. A pool of blood stained the linoleum floor where his father had fallen. An ambulance had sped him to the hospital, and Officer Jenny was here, overseeing the investigation.

Jenny noticed the stricken family and strode toward them. In a subdued voice, she gave them the facts.

"Whoever did this was a professional. We couldn't get any fingerprints, hairs, anything. And you're sure you didn't get a look at his face, Mrs. Harrison?"

Mark's mother shook her head. "No, he wore a mask. But his voice…I'd remember that anywhere."

Officer Jenny nodded and marched off toward a group of investigators near the blood, leaving the two of them alone.

"Mom," Mark said in a quavering voice, "what are we going to do?"

His mother was silent for a moment, staring blindly into the distance. "I don't know, son. I don't know."

They stood together in silence, watching the police at work.

Suddenly, the high-pitched whine of cell phone sounded. Officer Jenny reached down to her belt and straightened with the device in her hand. "Jenny here," she barked into the receiver. She listened for a moment, then drew a deep breath in surprise of what she'd just heard. The conversation lasted a moment longer, then, with a promise of, "I'll tell them," she hung up.

Mark and his mother watched her apprehensively as Jenny walked over again, her mouth drawn in a tight line. "Mrs. Harrison, Mark, I-I hate to be the one to tell you this, but…" Her voice trailed off as she stared, at a loss for words.

Mark spoke up. "What, Officer Jenny? Nothing can be worse than what's already happened."

Officer Jenny sighed. Her eyes were cast downward as she said, "Mrs. Harrison, your husband has just…passed away. I'm sorry." She turned away.

"No." A sharp hiss escaped his mother's mouth, and Mark winced as her grip on him tightened. Hot tears welled from her eyes and dripped onto his forehead.

"Mom, it's-it's not true, is it?" Mark's innocent eyes gazed up at his mother, wanting, needing reassurance.

She didn't answer.

Mark gulped and swallowed, nodding against the pain in his chest. He gazed into the pool of blood on the floor, his father's blood, and made a silent vow to himself. _I will avenge you, Dad, _he swore. _I promise. _

Mark and his mother stood together, passive in the midst of the bustle of policemen. They clutched each other tightly, grieving as one, feeling the loss of Mark's father as profoundly as if their world had ended. And in a sense, it had. Only time would mend their shattered hearts.

- - - -

Well…I don't know about you, but I love happy beginnings. I apologize to those of you who read this and expected some ditzy, happy story. I promise it will be later, but I needed to write this for the back story. And I know there wasn't much about Pokemon in this chapter, but again, I promise there will be loads of it later. After all, this is a Pokemon story. So, bear with me, comment, and be cheerful. Peace.

Will


	2. A Rocky Beginning

Crystal Tears

Just a little note: Thanks Keleri, for taking the time to review my story. I agree with you; I'm no fan of Joy or Jenny either. I just needed some way to tie the story into the world of Pokemon, since there was almost no reference at all in the first chapter. Hence, the Jenny. And thank you for the comment. I hope I will be able to produce something that you will enjoy.

- -

Chapter 2 – A Rocky Beginning

From the kitchen, Mark heard a loud rap on the door. He sighed and got up from the table, leaving his Lucky Charms behind.

The knock sounded again, and Mark hurried, muttering, "I'm coming, I'm coming."

He reached the front door and opened it. A salesman in a white coat stood on the porch, his long white hair waving in the light breeze. "Can I help you?" Mark asked, rather brusquely.

The man blinked, taken aback. "I apologize if I've caught you at a bad time, but I was simply wondering -"

Mark cut him off with a shake of his head. "Whatever it is you're selling, I'm not interested. Sorry." He started to close the door, but the old man stopped him.

"No, no, you misunderstand me. My name is Professor Oak." The man smiled expectantly, as if that news would explain everything.

Mark eyed the professor, uncertain of what to say. "Er…ok. Nice to meet you."

Professor Oak faltered. "You mean you've never heard of me?"

Mark blinked. "Should I have?" He ran his fingers through short brown hair, confused.

The professor blushed and shook his head. "No, no, that's quite alright. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've gotten quite used to the fame I've acquired over the years. Er…may I come in?"

Mark shrugged, and opened the door wide for the Professor to step through. The boy was impressed by his height, and the distinct manner with which Oak carried himself.

He led the way the living room, pausing in the doorway to eye the mess inside. He turned to the professor and said, "Excuse the mess. We just moved here and we haven't finished unpacking yet." He tossed a box full of clothes off of the couch and motioned for Oak to sit. Mark himself sat on the edge of the coffee table in the middle of the room.

Oak sat down, sinking into the plush cushions of the couch. He looked curiously at Mark and asked, "Where did you move from?"

"Saffron City," replied Mark. "We moved because my father…" his voice trailed off, and he looked down, wiping at his face.

Oak nodded. "I see," he said gently. "Well, I think you'll find Pallet Town quite to your liking. A bit different than the city, perhaps, but it's nice. You were lucky to get a waterfront residence. The sea is quite nice this time of year."

The two sat in an awkward silence for a moment, before Oak cleared his throat. "I suppose you're wondering who I am. Well…perhaps I should introduce myself a bit better. My name is Professor Oak. I'm a Pokemon researcher. You – you do know what Pokemon are, correct?"

Mark snorted. "Of course I do. We actually had a Meowth once, but it kept stealing from our neighbors. So we had to give it up for adoption."

"Good. Good. Well, you realize that many professions revolve around these creatures. For example, many people capture them, and use their special abilities to compete in the worldwide Pokemon League. Others, including myself, study Pokemon. I surmised that you had heard of me because, quite frankly, I have made somewhat of a reputation in the field of Pokeology."

Mark nodded, impressed. "But what does this have to do with me?"

Oak blinked, and smiled. "Well, I thought it was obvious, my boy. Pallet Town is famous for being a popular starting point for a Trainer's journey to become the Pokemon League Champion. I came here with the intention of asking you to start your own quest."

"And why do you want me to?"

"Well, you see, most of the Trainer's who begin here are of…a rather immature age. Few ever complete their journey, or even make it past the first Gym Leader. I need someone who is older and more mature, more reliable, to go start their quest, and in the process, assist me with my research." Here, Oak pulled something small and red out of his pocket. "This is a Pokedex. It automatically records data on Pokemon you have seen or caught. But, no one has ever finished it. I want you to try." He held the device out for Mark to take.

Mark accepted the Pokedex and stared at it with wonder. He hadn't been lying when he said he knew about Pokemon Trainers; everyone knew about them. But only certain Trainers were given a Pokedex. It was a mark of talent, and of wealth. Only the best, or the richest could get their hands on one, although it was predicted that soon enough, they would be mass-produced and everyone could get one. But, all-in-all, Mark never imagined that he would ever even hold one, let alone own one.

"I…I don't know," he stammered. "I've never thought about Training at all. I don't know anything about it. I honestly don't think that I'm the right person for the job."

"Nonsense," declared Oak. "I believe in you, my boy, and I know that you can do it. Tell you what; we'll give you a strong starter Pokemon. Then no one can stand in your way."

"Al-alright," said Mark hesitantly. "Ok. I'll do it."

"Excellent." Oak clapped his hands together briskly and stood up. "Then come with me to my lab. It's about a five minute walk from here."

Mark stood up with the professor. "Let me just leave a note for my mom." He quickly jotted down some words for his mother on some spare paper, and then followed the professor out the door.

- -

Professor Oak led them to a large, white building surrounded by trees. They entered through the front doors and stepped inside.

Mark was impressed by the size of the place. The building from the outside looked huge, but from inside, it was enormous. They took a corridor leading left, which traveled past a door opening into what looked like an arena, and another which led to an indoor park. Mark barely had time to gasp at the sight of dozens of Pokemon running inside before Oak swept him along.

He led them to another door that had a plaque reading "Storage Facility." He opened the door for Mark, and then followed him inside.

The room contained shelf after shelf of Pokeballs. Mark was amazed by the number of red and white spheres lying in neat rows. "Do those all have Pokemon?" he asked.

Oak led the way to a small computer in the center of the room, encircled by a table, which was stacked high with yet more Pokeballs. "Yes," replied Oak, "and this machine will tell us which Pokemon is inside which ball. I want you to choose one that you like. Most beginning Trainers are offered only Charmander, Squirtle, or Bulbasaur. But I think you could handle a bit more advanced Pokemon."

He turned on the PC and opened a program in the lower left hand side of the screen. Names of Pokemon started blinking past, along with pictures to match. Mark stared intently for a moment, eyeing them carefully. He wanted the biggest and the strongest, and it looked like –

"There! That one!"

The screen stopped scrolling abruptly. A picture of a long, rocky Pokemon appeared, along with a blinking name – Onix.

Oak nodded. "That's a good choice. Very strong. A bit wild, but if you can tame it, then you'll be well set." He glanced at the screen for a moment, then reached behind him on the shelf and plucked a single Pokeball from the rack.

"Here you go, Mark. Your very own Pokemon. Why don't you send him out, get to know him?"

Mark nodded, and clutched the ball tightly. "Go, Onix!" he yelled, as he threw the ball forward.

The Pokeball split open at the seam. Bright red light flared forth, spastically shooting across the floor as it solidified into a Pokemon. There came a howl, and then Onix lay before them.

It was huge. The beast was a good twenty feet long, and its dark gray hide was made completely of stone. It howled again, and banged its tail on the ground.

Mark approached the snake-like Pokemon cautiously. "Hey there, bud," he murmured. "I'm your new Trainer."

The Onix growled, unimpressed. "ONIX!" it screeched. It turned away, leaving Mark with a sad expression. He recalled his Pokemon, and clipped the ball to his belt.

Oak eyed all this with interest. "Well, lad, you have your first Pokemon. Why don't you give it a nickname? Perhaps Rocky, or Screech?"

Mark thought. "Rocky sounds good. I'll call him Rocky."

"Erm, just so you know, it's not a _him._ It's a _her_."

Mark nodded, and smiled. _Oh, man, I can't wait to tell mom! I'm going to be a Pokemon Trainer!_

_- - -_

Well, now we're starting to roll. He's got a Pokemon, and a Pokedex; what more does he need? Perhaps a motive for his quest – like revenge against his father's murderer? I don't know. Find out in the next chapter. I think I'll call it…Hidden Truths.

By the way, I just want to point out that everything in here is something I made up, excepting the whole Pokemon idea. So if you see something that doesn't make sense in the ordinary fashion, such as Mark getting an Onix for a starter, well, that's why.

Will


End file.
